


Shane Family Dinner, Sweaters Not Included

by Satchelfoot



Category: Lock In - John Scalzi
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Swearing, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satchelfoot/pseuds/Satchelfoot
Summary: After braving some holiday cheer from the housemates, Shane takes Vann to a family dinner.





	Shane Family Dinner, Sweaters Not Included

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellseries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellseries/gifts).



“Tony,” I said. “What the actual fuck are you wearing?”

“Haven’t you ever seen a sweater on a threep before?” Tony returned. 

The thing he was wearing could only in the most generous possible terms be called a sweater. By all conceivable definitions, it could and should be called ugly. If you were still feeling generous after deigning to call it a sweater, you could also say it was seasonally themed, though that would probably constitute a serious insult to the season.

“Wait, does it… are those lights woven into it? Does it _light up_? Just what do the twins have on you that they could get you agree to wear this, Tony? Blackmail is against the law. I can help you. And then I can also help you burn it.”

“Har har, asshole,” Tony said. “Just wait until you see yours.”

“Excuse me? I don’t have one of those. I very much do not, under any circumstances, have one of those. The twins may have purchased _a_ sweater that they _think_ belongs to me, but I would much rather pick another fight with a fucking tank threep than ever own such a thing, much less wear it.”

Right on cue, the twins’ threep emerged from their room holding an article of clothing even uglier than the one currently hanging off of Tony’s threep. To be fair, they had reserved the most hideous “sweater” of all for themselves.

“Hi, Chris! Try this on!”

“No. And please tell me you didn’t get one for Bismarck.” After an appropriate (very brief) period of mourning over having to return Donut to Kim Silva, the twins had requested and received permission from the rest of us to get another cat, whom they had named Bismarck in keeping with the naming theme established by Donut. To no one’s surprise, they mostly spoiled and occasionally tormented him.

“Oh, we tried. He still hasn’t come out from under the bed. We respect his wishes, though it makes us sad.” They shook the horrifying polyester thing at me. “Come on, Chris. Embrace the cheer.”

“Oh, shit, look at the time,” I said. “I’m going to be late picking up Vann for dinner with my parents.”

“Whaaaaat?”

“Yep, gotta go. Maybe I’ll put it on for half a minute when I get home. _Maybe_. If you’re very good.”

“Aww, okay.” They turned and called toward Tayla’s room. “Hey, Tayla!”

“ _No_ ,” came the immediate response.

 

I pulled up outside the bureau office and pinged Vann’s phone. She emerged, cigarette already in hand, and slumped into the passenger seat.

“Fucking administrative bullshit,” she said. “I don’t need a week off. I don’t have a life to take time off for. What do they think I’m going to do outside the office? Take up crocheting? Get a _dog_?”

“Catch up on your smoking and drinking? Get high and watch the Hilketa playoffs at my place? Maybe get laid?”

“…Okay, when you put it like that, it almost sounds not that bad.” Vann lit the cigarette. “But why do I have to meet your parents?”

“Because they know I love my job, but sometimes they’re still not sure why. I’ve totaled eight threeps in my first year with the bureau, to say nothing of the assassination attempt on my actual body. Therefore, they’re curious about why I actually like what I do. And a lot of that has to do with the people I get to meet and work with.”

“And you think I, of all people, am an excellent example of why our line of work is, uh, good for you?

“Well, you know, you’ll do in a pinch. We already established that you have nothing else to do this week.”

“Your confidence and esteem warm the fuck out of the cockles of my heart, Shane.”

“Always here to give you a boost, Vann.” I let a little silence go by before I brought up the next thing. “By the way, I haven’t told them details, but they know not to bring up Integrators around you.”

“Thank you, Chris. Among the thousands of opportunities for awkwardness embedded in this evening, that’s one crossed off.” She blew some smoke away from my face and looked at me for a moment. “But seriously, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

 

For the last two weeks of every year, almost every member of my parents’ household help received paid time off. I did still need at least one person to assist with my body’s daily needs, so my two full-time caretakers took turns: one would take the two weeks off while the other remained at the house to look after me—and to receive a considerable bonus and probably some extravagant gifts.

During those two weeks, my parents did what cleaning needed to be done and cooked for each other when they didn’t have high-profile dinners with politicians or business leaders. They were both very good cooks, and this year they had both insisted that they would make their specialties for us: Dad’s moussaka and Mom’s bouillabaisse. There would also be some brandy-soaked crème brulee at the end of the evening.

They actually came out of the house to greet us as we pulled up, something they hadn’t done since I’d shown up to introduce them to my high school sweetheart.

“Mom, Dad, this is Age—”

“I’m Leslie,” Vann said, shaking their hands. I was admittedly a little shocked. I hadn’t exactly forgotten that Vann had a first name—it was more that I’d begun thinking of it as her unofficial middle name. As far as I was concerned most of the time, her first name was Agent. But here she was, _Leslie_ , chatting with my parents, _smiling_. Acting like some normal person just showing up for a nice family dinner. I’d never seen this side of her before. It was more than slightly unnerving. Was this friendly persona anything like the face she had presented as an Integrator? I decided not to think about that for now.

After introductions and half an hour spent chatting in the kitchen, my parents asked us what we would like to drink and shooed us into the lounge off the dining room. As we went, Vann looked back at them with an expression suspiciously resembling fondness. In short order, she noticed that I was staring at her.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“What’s with the dead-eyed—no offense—stare?”

“You are never, ever like this, that’s what.”

“So? It’s not like I’m gonna be surly Agent Vann in front of my partner’s family. And I like them. They’re attractive and witty and not assholes about their privilege. And it’s almost sickeningly wholesome,” she said, looking right into my threep’s eyes, “to meet a married couple who have had a child, spent some of life’s up and downs together, and are still clearly having so much sex.”

“Damn, Vann! I should not ever hear or know that. What’s wrong with you?”

“You invited me here, Chris. You introduced me to them. Everything that happens as a result is technically your fault.”

“I do not accept that.”

“I’ve met hundreds of couples, happy and unhappy. I can read body language perfectly, and so can you, when you want to. I understand that in this context you wouldn’t want to, but it’s still entirely obvious. Your parents are fucking. A lot.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, clean up your mouth. Your parents are coming back.”

“Are you actually correcting my language in my own parents’ home?” But then Mom and Dad summoned us to eat. I made a firm mental note to needle Vann about this matter later in the car.

“So, Leslie,” Mom said, passing the gravy, “have you closed any cases lately that you’re allowed to talk about?”

“Yes,” Dad said, “Chris tells us a little bit here and there, but we’re always happy to hear more work stories.”

“Well, why don’t I tell you about the last time Chris destroyed a threep?”

“Oh, no,” I said, letting my head slump into my arms.

“Yeah, I’m afraid this time it wasn’t because of anything as heroic as a battle with a murder suspect.” Vann smiled brightly at me, loving every fucking moment of this. “So here’s what happened…”

She was insufferable. But I’d known her for over a year without ever seeing her this much at ease, enjoying herself this much. I sat back to watch my parents’ reactions to the story.


End file.
